Refusal Techniques
by A. Elyk
Summary: My God! How he ever in his entire life put up with his parents, I have no idea. Yes, they are, of course, still living. And speaking sarcastically, they are such WONDERFUL people. My future in-laws." ADMM
1. Chapter One

A/N: It's been quite some time since I've posted anything, for that I'm sorry. This story is dedicated to KayleeTonksLupin for always being there and encouraging me, Catwoman99 and Nerweniel for being such a great role models, Griselda La Fey who with her great reviews to everything I write has helped me strive to become a better author, and the ever-wonderful Quill of Minerva . . . . . thank you, love ya'll bunches! And Cameron, I'm so sorry!, please forgive me and know that you're one of my best friends in the world. 

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and a few minor characters. J.K. Rowling is whom the credit belongs to regarding Albus, Minerva, and the magical background. 

If the idea of elder people falling in love gives you the creeps, I'd be appreciative if you read no further. AD/MM of course! May their legacy live on forever.

Refusal Techniques

Chapter One: Define the Problem

My God! How he _ever _in his entire life put up with his parents, I have no idea. Yes, they are, of course, still living. And speaking sarcastically, they are such _WONDERFUL _people. My future in-laws. Maybe I should begin by telling you that Albus and my marriage is arranged. His parents had decided that they'd like grandchildren before they die and my parents were sticking to the McGonagall tradition of arranged marriages before the woman reached the age of 18. I suppose my parents assumed that I was going to automatically drop out of school and become impregnated as soon as physically possible. The Dumbledores were lifelong friends of my parents, and although I'd never met them, I'd heard talk of their son.

Quite dashing, the son of the Dumbledores. Positively intelligent. Bugger they mention to me his age. Oh, I presumed around the age of 25 or so, but _never _did I even think of the grown age of 86! He was my professor, for Merlin's sake. Never did I once make a connection to the friends of my parents and my professor.

Neither Albus nor I were very pleased when we heard the news from both his parents and mine. I was home for the Easter holiday during my sixth year at Hogwarts when I left with my parents for a two week long visit to the Dumbledores'. Albus was living with his parents during the small amounts of time he was not at Hogwarts. And so we- my parents and I- packed a few things and left by portkey.

We were greeted at the door by a woman whom I assumed to be Mrs. Dumbledore. "OH!" she crooned. "This _must _be Minerva! We've heard so many good things about you, deary! Welcome, welcome."

"Why don't you come in?" said Mr. Dumbledore, ushering my parents and I inside the house. "Brian hasn't arrived yet from Hogwarts. Lad should be here any moment."

"Meanwhile," picked up Mrs. Dumbledore, "I'll show you to your rooms."

Mrs. Dumbledore led us up the spiraling staircase as Mr. Dumbledore shut the door behind him and took a corridor to the left side of the doorway toward what I assumed was the kitchens. There were paintings all over the walls upstairs. They were muggle portraits. I recognized a few. Copies of the original art, or so I believed. We took a turn to the right side of the staircase and I was shown to the last room on the right. My parents were shown to a room on the left of the staircase, next to Mr. and Mrs. Dumbledore's own bedroom. I was told to leave my things so that a house elf could unpack them while we were at dinner.

Dinner went by uneventfully. I was a bit disappointed I hadn't gotten to meet Mr. and Mrs. Dumbledore's son that night, but I went to bed early, anyway, thinking maybe he'd be there by morning.

I remember waking up sometime during that night having to use the loo. I came back toward my room and, opening the door, almost fell over something solid. I figured I had just left something on the floor and proceeded to bed. I fall back in bed tiredly and sigh before succumbing to slumber once again.

I woke up the next morning, fully rested, with the sun. Someone was in my bed, I realized after opening my eyes for the second time to make sure I was seeing things correctly. My legs were wrapped around an unknown person's waist and said person's head lay gently against my breasts. I looked down at them- he- I realized deftly. He was staring at me; apparently I had awoken him when I moved to get a better look.

"Oh, Charlisse, look at them!" I heard my mother's voice whisper from outside the door. Were they looking through the keyhole?

"Yes, such a lovely couple they make. They will be astounded to hear the good news this morning, don't you think, Brianna?"

"I believe they are awake, let us go see what the elves have prepared for breakfast."

There were footsteps. I remember then staring dumbfounded at _Professor_ Albus Dumbledore for quite some time, and he at me.

"I- I think there's been some kind of mix-up," I muttered as I tried to wriggle from beneath him.

"Yes- yes, very much so," he said, I could see the blush creeping across his cheeks, despite his shortly cropped beard. He got up and I quickly did just the same. "I- I think I'll just get my things and head to another room."

"No- no," I told him. "I didn't know this was your room. I'll just find another."

"No, I insist. You stay here, I'll just-" He was going through a few drawers now looking for a set of clothes. He had some robes in his arms and was about to walk through the door when I stopped him.

"Er- Professor?" He looked back at me and I picked one of my bras from the wrinkled robe in his arms. We were both a shade darker than pink by that time, and to make the situation worse, my father was just walking past the door to the room at that moment. Taking in our appearances, he smiled brightly.

"Making an honest woman out of her, are you, Albus?" he teased.

I closed my eyes; I was completely horrified. I couldn't believe my father was making me look like an utter idiot in front of my Transfigurations professor.

"That's all right, son," my father told him. "Intercourse before marriage isn't unrespectable. In fact, how do you think little Minerva, here, was born so soon after her mother and I wed?"

Merlin, was it ever getting hot in there. I could almost cut the tension with a knife, it was so thick.

"Er-" I stuttered. "I think I'll just go take a nice bath now."

"Oh, don't mind me. I was just leaving. Don't let me detain you and Albus any longer for your washing," my father answered before walking back down the hallway.

"I am _so _sorry," I told the professor after quite a moment of silence. "I don't know what has gotten into my father."

"I think it best if I leave now before anyone else that may be in this godforsaken house sees us here." I just nodded and off he went toward the bathroom. Could this day get any worse?

Tell me what you think. Criticism is always welcome. Flames too. -Kathy


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters are product of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot and a few minor characters.

A/N: Thank you! All the reviews made me so happy, and for the advice, **Lena**, I believe another thank you is owed, (I hope this chapter helps; the next one should explain a bit more). Sorry this chapter's a bit short. Chapter Three should be longer. Tell me what you think.

**Chapter Two: Form A Hypothesis**

Breakfast that same morning was a wreck. My and Professor Dumbledore's parents had some wonderful news that we would love to hear. . . . or so they thought in their happy-go-lucky minds. Oh, and here I smile!, they gave the news to us so slowly. . . ! Albus, I was supposed to call my professor from now forward. And his parents, I'm supposed to call by their given names: Charlisse and Michaelave; or, as Charlisse suggests. . . . . Mum and Dad. I had no idea what they meant by that, but I had a feeling Professor- Albus, I was corrected- did.

"What exactly are you implying?" I ask my mother impatiently.

"Minerva, hunny. . . . you and Albus are getting married! Isn't that so exciting!?"

I was shocked to say the least. That was not what I had been expecting. And furthermore, what Albus's parents went on to say. It was arranged, and we had no way of getting out of it. We were to marry over the summer.

"Brian, son, your mother and I don't have much longer left in life. We'd like to be able to have grandchildren before we die, Son, Minerva dearest. We're not getting any younger," explained his father.

"I have talked with my healer at St. Mungo's," continued his mother, "she has said that with my age, I shall not have but too much longer. She gives me a year at best. One year, Albus, one year! There are things I have yet to do in my long life: I want to be able to hold my first grandchild, to rock the little one to sleep!"

"Mother, we've been through this," stated Albus. He looked at me and saw how I looked so sad for his mother. "Don't," he told me, "She just wants to guilt us into marrying one another."

"Oh, there's no guilting to be done here, you're getting married," said my mother happily.

There was a lapse in conversation, so I began to ask, "And why now? Why us?"

"Well, you see," began my father, as if explaining to a pair of 3-year-old children the concept of how the stork delivers a baby to the mummy and daddy, "your mother and I have been friends with Charlisse and Michaelave all of our lives. It seemed almost coincidence that when we felt it time for you to wed that Albus's parents felt he needed a bit of a nudge in the right direction. It was only prudent the two of you marry right away. So, you see, Minerva, we just want the both of you to be happy."

"We are very happy the way we are!" exclaimed both Albus and I together. We met eyes and once again that morning, I blushed profusely.

"Suffice it to say, you have no say in the matter," said my mother with a tone of finality.

"I damn well do!-" I said exasperately. My mother gasped. "Yes, Mother, I cursed. Do you not see, though, how insufferable it is having the two of you as parents? How you have so driven me to incomprehensible madness?"

"Minerva, dear, maybe it best if you calm down a tad," said my father.

"_Calm down!?_" I cried. "Last I checked, I was calm."

Albus's mother decided for a go of fun, and so I sat staring at her, wishing to hit her with a wooden stick as you would a Mexican piñata, or even a broom stick or spoon. . . . anything to shut the old hag up. All earlier pretense of feeling remorseful for the woman was now completely diminished.

"Oh, Minerva, dearest. Tisn't that bad, now, is it? Marry, have a few children, that's all we ask of you." My mother nodded. My father, as did Albus's, looked rather pleased about the whole idea.

"Mother," tried Albus. "Mother, I know you wish for me to marry, but you have blown things out of proportion a bit, haven't you?"

His mother sighed. "I- I suppose you're right, Albus. We have been rather demanding. Why- why don't we let the idea float about in your head for the next couple of weeks while the McGonagall's are here to visit, hmm?" My mother frowned, I could tell she wasn't at all happy. But something Charlisse did next had me puzzled. She simply smiled radiantly, eyes twinkling fully, toward my mother. They made eye contact and my mother began smiling too. I wondered at that time if maybe my mother was clairvoyant. I didn't think so, but nevertheless did I not forget that thought.

We were all quiet for the remainder of breakfast. Our father's left to check in at the ministry with a few younger friends while our mothers made to the parlor. I made myself useful in gathering the plates and mugs.

"You know, my parents have house elves that do that?" said Albus. I know he was just making conversation, though I also knew he felt a bit nervous around me now.

I sighed. "Yes, I just thought I could make myself useful."

He stood up. "You don't have to do that. You're a guest." He had made his way to me and now stood right beside me. "You know they're not giving up, don't you?"

"I do. Is there anything we can do to change their minds?"

"I'm afraid not," he answered. "You know as well as I that neither my mother, nor yours, has ever been one to give up on something."

"So. . . . we can make the best of the situation, and be civil toward one another, or we can continue the way we are," I interjected.

"I think it best we at least appear to be on good terms."


End file.
